


I Should Have Found You

by Amy_Stark117



Series: the lost and found [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Summaries, Light Angst, Pining, Slice of Life, Timeskip, What-If, but what's new honestly, osamu is just so dreamy isn't he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_Stark117/pseuds/Amy_Stark117
Summary: “I think all that matters, now, is that you love me. And I love you. All your worries - leave them behind in the past. Just look to the future you have with me.”In which Miya Osamu is happy, and he spends a lazy morning with the person he loves the most.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Series: the lost and found [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952776
Comments: 52
Kudos: 98





	I Should Have Found You

**Author's Note:**

> haw haw yes i finally wrote osamu's oneshot, celebrations all round guys!! and on the day that haikyuu came back, too. EP 14 WAS AMAZING THO LOL I'M SO HYPED FOR THE SEASON!!
> 
> this can be read as a standalone i guess BUT it does reference things involved in my other atsumu/reader fic [You Found Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357967/chapters/58739620) so you might be a lil confused in places!!
> 
> this basically act's as a what-if situation to chapter 2 of YFM - what if atsumu was the one to go with his mother, leaving osamu and reader alone on that one rainy day??
> 
> enjoy, and as always, feedback is very much appreciated bc i'm not too sure about this one :(

When Osamu opens his eyes, it's to an annoyingly bright room and an empty space next to him on the queen sized bed, sheets tangled between his long legs.

His hand subconsciously reaches over to the other half of the bed while his eyes try to adjust to the light filtering in past the curtains he forgot to close fully last night.

Osamu’s fingertips, calloused from years of volleyball, cooking and whatnot, feels the remnants of heat, the lingering memory of a body that lay next to him only recently.

It makes a sleepy smile grow on his face.

His ears awaken next - he can hear the chirping of the birds as they tweet to their heart's content, the rumble of cars on the road, signs of life beginning to filter down the street, and the tinkering of pots and pans from his own kitchen.

His smile morphs into a good natured smirk. 

With a groan, he stretches all of his limbs outwards. His bones and joints pop and crack, and he lets out a long breath of satisfaction, deflating onto the mattress and burying his face into the pillow next to his.

It smells sweet; like fruits and summer, the light and carefree smiles that the sun brings, and it’s something so specific to his lover that he wishes he could just bottle it up and keep it with him, so that it may smother him like a loving embrace.

A crash and a muted curse from the kitchen snaps him out of his thoughts, and while he’d love nothing more than to stay in bed in the hopes that his better half will come crawling back under the covers with him on his day off, he has a kitchen to save.

Forcing his body to rise, he haphazardly throws on a t-shirt and makes his way to the source of the sound disturbing his peaceful sleep.

He can feel the heat shining through the windows already, promising that today will be warm and sunny. He passes by frames holding memories, each picture painting a different story to hold dear. He thinks of Inarizaki’s school motto, and smiles wryly. Maybe some memories can be held onto.

As he turns the corner to the kitchen, he makes a mental note in his head to do something nice and make the most of the weather.

_ “Damn it!” _

A harsh whisper accompanied by the sound of plastic hitting the floor is what greets him. He leans against the doorframe as he watches in amusement at the scene before him. 

You stand in the kitchen wearing about as much as him - a simple t-shirt of his that sits too big on your frame and underwear that peeks out whenever you bend over. The plastic sound is revealed to be various packages of food that have slipped off the counter, and when he breathes in, he can get a faint smell of something burning in what he guesses is the toaster, if the smoke rising out of the machine is anything to go by.

When you don’t immediately notice his presence, he decides to watch you struggle with cooking for a few minutes before he really can’t take it anymore, cringing as you flit around the kitchen.

“I thought cookin’ was s’posed to be my thing.”

You give a yelp and spin around, flustered and vaguely annoyed.

“Samu! You’re supposed to be in bed!”

He hums, and moves closer to see what you were attempting to make. 

“I  _ was,  _ but it sounded like a bull had crashed into the house.”

That makes you wince. You stare woefully at the disastrous scene before you, but Osamu just laughs lightly.

“What were ya tryna make?”

“I...at first I tried to make pancakes, but I was still half asleep and accidentally burned them. Then I thought about making some grilled sandwiches but there was nothing in the fridge to put  _ into  _ the sandwiches. So then I decided to just make toast and…” you gesture sadly to the charred pieces of bread that rest in the toaster. He snorts.

“Yer not usually this bad with cookin’” he comments. He watches as a pout grows on your beautiful face, and his heart skips a beat. Even after all this time together, you never fail to make it feel like the first time he met you - butterflies, heart skipping and sweaty palms.

(He remembers the first time he saw you, sitting on the couch alongside his younger brother. He had almost thought nothing of it at first. You were a girl he barely recognised from school, someone he had just never crossed paths with before. 

There was no reason for Miya Osamu to take any notice of you, to see you as anything other than his younger brothers’ babysitter.

And yet you looked at him, and you gave him a smile so sweet, and he felt himself suddenly swept away in a current of emotions like he’s never felt before.

‘Crush’ was too light a word to describe all things Osamu had felt for you then, and all the things he still felt for you now.)

“I know. Today isn’t my day, apparently.” You sigh, shoulders falling with the motion. “I just wanted to make breakfast for you since the restaurant kept you busy all week…”

His arms move to wrap around your waist from behind and on instinct you move to allow him, as if second nature, as if you didn’t even have to think about it. You just  _ did it.  _

He holds you as close as he can, but it never feels close enough for his liking.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, staring out the kitchen window and into the garden beyond; at the giant tree that sits in one corner and the pinwheel you made during your DIY phase in the other, at the array of flowers you planted and bloomed.

At the lilies that sit in their own special little spot between the other flowers. 

His chin moves to rest on your shoulder, and he hugs you tight. “We agreed that I’d do the cookin’ and you do the cleanin’.”

“I know, but…” you sigh through your nose, and place your hands atop his. He feels the metal of the ring on your left hand graze his skin, and his stomach twists in delight. “You worked really hard this week, I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Osamu’s lips graze along your neck, planting a million butterfly kisses on territory he knows so well, kisses that he’ll give a million times more for the rest of his life. A noise of understanding vibrates against your skin, and he refrains from laughing at the shudder you give.

“By poisonin’ me?” he teases. Your hand smacks his arms playfully, and this time he does laugh, a tired and happy sound. Your ring sparkles in the early morning sun, and his grey eyes stay glued to it, as if stuck in a trance.

“Shush, you. Keep talking like that and I won’t make you strawberry cheesecake anymore!”

He plants a firm kiss to your cheek before withdrawing from you entirely, already needing you back in his arms. It was too nice a day to let you go. But he moves to the refrigerator, already planning hundreds of breakfast meals in his head.

“Let’s see what we can salvage,” he swings the door open, only to pause.

Shit. you were right. There really isn’t anything in the fridge to make a good enough meal. He really should have gone grocery shopping yesterday, but he was just too lazy after working the morning shift.

“I told you,” your voice quips from behind him, and he throws a weak glare over his shoulder.

“Shut yer trap.”

It doesn’t take long for him to spot the few slices of pizza left behind from the night before, sitting rather lamely in a tupperware box. Another scan of the shelves revealed no other options. He sighs through his nose.

Pizza for breakfast it is, then.

“Grab some plates,” he says as he takes the box out. You raise a brow at the food choice, but do as you’re told, and it isn’t long before he’s heating the slices up in the microwave. Osamu peeks out of the window and into the backyard once more. The sun is shining on the grass - not too bright and not too hot. 

He comes to a decision as soon as the  _ ding  _ of the microwave cuts through the silence in the kitchen.

“C’mon,” he nods his head towards the door leading to the backyard. “We’re gonna have breakfast in the garden.”

Your laugh tickles his senses as he exits the house.

“You’re gonna sit in the garden in your underwear? Won’t you get cold? And what if the neighbours see us?”

“Nah, ’s perfect out here.” He sits in the centre of the yard, in front of the beautiful white lilies in all their glory and gloom. You make to sit beside him, but he grabs your hips at the last minute, and sits you on his lap with his toned arms looped around you. You don’t object, and simply rest your head near his heart. He wonders if you can hear how hard it beats. “‘Sides, we need to give the neighbours a good show.”

He can practically feel the heat blooming on your cheeks through the fabric of his shirt. He snorts. “I think we’ve already given them quite the show already,” you mumble, embarrassed. 

A shit-eating grin creeps on his face as he remembers that particular tryst from not too long ago, from a cool summer night with cold drinks and wandering hands.

“Yeah, that was a good one. Ain’t my fault if you were bein’ loud, though.”

He lets out an  _ ‘oof’  _ when you hit his stomach with a little more force than usual.

“You can be as crude as Tsumu, sometimes! And I believe it  _ was  _ your fault!”

He simply chuckles at you. The next few moments are spent in relative silence as you eat your food in the peace of the garden. Silent, except for the light rustling of the leaves, the distant hum of the city, so far removed from this little paradise of just the two of you. He rests his cheek on the crown of your head, and thinks.

It’s moments like this, the bliss, the lull in his busy life, that give him pause and allow his thoughts to take over. It’s a strange phenomenon of memories and images, a happy collection of love and life that he will cherish until the end of his days. And it’s an array of ‘what if’s’, too, that present themselves at times where he feels happiness.

It’s the ‘what ifs’ that he hates the most.

What if he had gone pro with Atsumu like everyone expected of him, instead of opening the restaurant? What if he had set up Onigiri Miya in Tokyo first instead of Hyogo? Would he have gotten more business then, as opposed to the solid year of breaking into his personal piggy bank to make ends meet?

What if he had never met you?

What if, what if, what if.

(What if he had acquiesced to his mother's demands of accompanying her to the supermarket, and Atsumu took his place on that one rainy day? What if Atsumu had stayed with you at home instead, had talked to you, got to know you? 

Would he have been the one you gave your heart to? Osamu wasn’t oblivious to the feelings beginning to take root in Atsumu as soon as you became a presence in their life. It was clear as day, because Osamu saw it in himself, too. 

What if Osamu had never said  _ ‘fuck it’  _ and asked you to go on a date with him? What if you had refused when he did?

Too many what if’s that he doesn’t want to think about, but his mind forces him to anyway.)

Just like the other half to his heart you were always meant to be, you sense a change in his demeanour, and raise your head to look at him questioningly.

“Samu? You ok?”

He brings his free hand up to card his long fingers through your silky tresses. He makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat, and your eyes flutter open again to look at him square in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

Ah. No beating around the bush with you, is there? You care about him too much to let these things go.

“Just thinkin’ about how different my life would be if I hadn’t asked ya out, ‘s all.”

The garden is plunged in silence once more as you ponder on his statement. 

“What do you mean, exactly?” you eventually ask.

“Ya know, the usual. How different high school would have gone, if I would have even opened up the restaurant without you pushin’ me to do it. If I’d be married, who...who  _ you  _ would be married to…”

(Would it be Atsumu? You always were a problem for the twins, in your own oblivious and innocent way. 

Osamu won’t ever forget the cold attitude his brother gave him for weeks when he came home from his first date with you. It left him feeling a bit lonely without his brother, that he couldn’t even talk about his feelings for you and get a slap on the back and a stupid joke from Tsumu about falling in love like a braindead scrub.

Even now, years later, Atsumu still seems awkward around the both of you, as if his feelings never truly went away, just lay dormant and buried under dust.

It makes everyone uncomfortable despite the polite smiles plastered on their faces. And every so often, for a fleeting moment, Osamu wishes it could go back to the way it was, if maybe he should have given you up before he even had you. 

But that thought is destroyed as it comes, because there is no doubt in his mind that you are one of the best things to ever happen to him, Atsumu be damned.)

“Hmm,” you chew thoughtfully on your pizza. Bright green blades of grass tickle the soles of his feet when he shifts.

“‘S dumb. Forget about it,” he dismisses.

“I do that already with every dumb thing you say. It’s why I’m your  _ wife,”  _ you laugh gently, and he responds with a scoff. “But this isn’t dumb. It’s what a lot of people think about.  _ Fate,  _ and all that stuff. Like an alternate reality”

“I guess I can only hope my alternate self has a wife that isn’t as cheeky as you,” he pinches at the flesh of your thigh, grinning when you let out a yelp and smack weakly at his chest.

“Hilarious, my love. You should have been a comedian instead of a chef.”

“Can’t have it all, babe. Have to keep some talents to myself, ya know?”

You shake your head fondly. After another bout of silence, in which the food has been finished and you simply bask in the heat of the sunshine, you pat the arm coiled around your torso gently.

“Is there any use thinking about that stuff?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, life happened the way that it did. Maybe for a reason. Is there any point dwelling on what could and couldn’t have happened?”

He thinks about it.

Osamu has it all - a good family and childhood, friends that care deeply about him, his dream job as a chef and his own restaurant with great business, a professional volleyball player as brother that he is immensely proud of, a nice house and a nice car, and someone he loves unconditionally and who loves him back just as fiercely and is able to spend the rest of his life with.

Was there any point to mulling over if all that might never have been his, because he might have acted too late?

No. He supposes there isn’t.

He’s glad that he can always count on you to be the voice of reason.

But you take his silence to mean something else, and suddenly you’re moving, shifting until you have your knees planted on either side of his thighs. His face is cradled in your hands, and his smoky grey orbs stay glued to yours, utterly bewitched by the adoration in your eyes.

“I think all that matters, now, is that you love me. And I love you. And we get to live with each other and maybe have babies and grow old together. All your worries - leave them behind in the past. Just look to the future you have with me.”

His heart thunders in his ribcage, ready to burst free with the overflowing love he has for you.

You mean everything to him. Like the sun to the lilies, like a volleyball to the court; you are a need, something in his life he just can’t do without. It scares him a bit - to cherish something so greatly that his heart would tear to pieces if he didn’t have it. To feel hollow, like an endless cave, forever walking further into the dark in search of your love if it was taken from him.

How terribly poetic of Osamu.

(But he isn’t exaggerating when he says he’ll do anything for you, come hell or high water.)

“Ok,” he whispers. He wishes that his mouth could be as poetic as his mind and heart is, but you understand him plenty, and his heart squeezes with affection. You smile brightly, and squish his cheeks.

“Good. You tend to snap when you’re grumpy. Besides, who else would you have married, other than me?”

“Hmm...there was that girl Kiki in school that was into me.”

Your face turns flat, fixing him with a look of faux annoyance.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “‘M sure she woulda made a good wife, or whatever.”

_ “Right,”  _ you drawl, looking wholly unimpressed, but he senses no malice in your words or face. “But I’m just not sure she would have loved you as much as I do.”

Said so casually and with an easy smile, but it’s enough to knock the wind right out of his chest. Words escape him, but actions never do. He threads his fingers through your hair once more, the threads weaving through his digits with familiarity, and he tugs your mouth down to meet his.

(He pours all he doesn’t say into the kiss - I love you, forever and always. You are my life, my heart, my soul. I can’t live without you. 

He wants so desperately for his mouth to form the words, for you to understand just how much you mean to him, but he knows he doesn’t always need to. You know him, in and out, and it’s just one of the endless reasons why he loves you.)

He hears an alarm sound in the distance, and it echoes through the garden like the cries of a ghost. He'd ignore it, but the sound is odd, out of place, and gets louder and louder until it shrieks in his ear like the roar of a banshee. He pulls away from your sweet lips reluctantly. 

He looks to you, to see if he's the only one going insane right now, but all he sees is a confused smile on your kind face. You say something to him, but it comes out garbled and foreign, lost behind the blare of the alarm. 

Before his very eyes you shift, body warping and fading into shapes as the garden around you both chips away and dissolves into dust. His whole world is being destroyed, and he can't grasp onto any of the pieces to put it back together.

He's trying to see past the tears that begin to swell in his eyes, and his hand reaches out to grasp yours but it goes right through you, and suddenly he feels his body fall backwards, helpless and freefalling to a doom he isn't sure when he'll meet. 

Everything loses its colour, and the world gets darker and darker and darker until-

When Osamu opens his eyes, it’s in a single bed with the ringtone of his morning alarm echoing in his half empty college apartment.

He stares in bewilderment at the patchy ceiling of his bedroom. He stutters out a breath.

_ It...it was just a dream. _

(His heart thuds painfully in his chest - a sad beat, a dead sound.)

He reaches over to his nightstand blindly to grab his phone. He can feel a headache starting to make itself known in the space between his eyes, and he sighs drearily, already fed up with the day despite it only beginning. As he switches off the alarm, he sees a notification, a text from the very subject of his cruel fantasies.

_ Miya Twins Personal Therapist: Morning Samu! I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with me outside today? There's a really nice spot on campus with some really nice flowers, not many people sit there! _

How painfully and sadistically hilarious this is.

(He doesn’t laugh.)

He types out a quick response (he tries not to sound like an eager puppy, and simply sends a  _ ‘yeah, sure’ _ ) and slumps back onto his mattress, bemoaning the eventual rise from his bed and the gruelling classes he needs to attend after such a wonderful yet horrible dream.

Atsumu’s voice calls out to him from beyond his door.

“Oi, oi, Samu! You gettin’ up soon? Suna ‘n I are waitin’ for breakfast, ya lazy slug!”

Osamu sighs again. 

Once. Just  _ once  _ in his life, Osamu would like to be the one who comes out on top.

(But Atsumu, of course, won the race he never even knew he was in until it was too late.

Atsumu always gets what he wants.)

Osamu closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> hope everyone has a lovely weekend!! <3


End file.
